


Confirmation Bias

by Ira_Dunfort



Series: The Grey Fledgling [2]
Category: Good Omens (TV)
Genre: A Second South Downs Cottage, Attempt at Humor, Domestic Fluff, Established Relationship, F/M, Idiots in Love, Intervention, Kid Fic, M/M, Paperwork, Porn with Feelings, Pregnancy, She/Her Pronouns for Beelzebub (Good Omens), South Downs Cottage (Good Omens), Swearing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-04
Updated: 2019-10-04
Packaged: 2020-11-23 09:50:22
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,282
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20890148
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ira_Dunfort/pseuds/Ira_Dunfort
Summary: The one in which Gabriel needs to get his shit together and an intervention is set up.I almost feel sorry for Beelzebub.





	Confirmation Bias

**Author's Note:**

  * For [AEpixie7](https://archiveofourown.org/users/AEpixie7/gifts), [Eshnoazot](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Eshnoazot/gifts).

> Thanks again to Eshnoazot and AEpixie7 for encouraging me to go through with this. You are an endless well of inspiration. I highly recommend their bureaucratic works. 
> 
> Enjoy.

Beelzebub groaned at Gabriel, who was driving them home from the wedding at Tadfield, obnoxiously within speed limits. Beelzebub despised his car, a Prius, in the most noncommittal beige. A rosary hung from the rearview mirror, stinking of incense. If Gabriel wanted an electric car, why, just why wouldn't he get a sleek and shiny Tesla. She'd be in touch with Elon in no time, he still _owed_ her. 

"If you are pregnant we'd need to get a car seat."

"That's enough of 'ifs' for you today, Gabriel." She reclined her seat a nudge further, getting comfortable. As comfortable as a demon could be in a sodding Prius with a bewildered and rambling agent of God. 

The angel was struggling with what to say next, his hands tense on the steering wheel, shoulders stiff. "Would you," he started, keeping his eyes on the road ahead, "would you marry me, if you really are pregnant?"

"I will not marry you. You know that. How often do I have to tell you no?"

"But you always keep the rings."

"And where is my ring _this time_, hm?" She held her right hand open and expectant towards him. 

He took it, lacing their fingers together. "But--"

"No more buts. We can and we will deal with this in due time."

The remaining trip home they shared an uneasy silence. Her left hand rested on her middle, lost in thought. The sight was doing absolutely nothing helpful to the internal screaming Gabriel was experiencing. 

  


  


A tense week passed, filled with paranoid observations of her every move, looking for any clear sign of what the Antichrist was hinting at. It made her snap at him more than usual. The angry sex that followed was something to behold, he didn't mind at all. 

This time, he stayed and watched her sleep afterwards. She had tired herself out from pinning him down and riding him, using him, to put Gabriel back in his place. Now, he sat there on the ground by the bed, chin resting on his folded arms, unable to tear his eyes away from her. He wanted to reach out, put his hand on her stomach, try to feel something, anything, but he wouldn't dare to wake her up. You simply don't wake sleeping demons. 

She shifted in her sleep, huddling herself deeper into the sheets before a soft sigh escaped her lips. Gabriel miracled his laptop to himself, silently going to work with his back leaning against the high bed frame. 

A few hours later, her voice, raspy with sleep, called out to him. "Gabriel?"

"Good morning, sweetheart." he answered despite it being only 3:33 at night.

She scrunched her face at the detested nickname and made grabby hands at him. "Come here."

"Yes, my prince."

She was drowsy and mellow as she pulled him on top of her, barely awake, all lazy kisses and languid touches. "Like this, just this once." 

"As you wish."

It had been quiet, soft, she let him do all the work, except for a hand on his hips every now and then to keep his pace oh so slow and his orgasm right on the edge until neither could take it any longer. She practically purred at him as he cocooned them in his wings when the sun started to shine through the window. 

The shift in temperament worried Gabriel, but he wasn't going to complain. He could very well use this against her, later. 

After a black coffee or two and a bowl of sour cherries, she was back to her usual self, flinging balled up papers at him over their desks and threatening to staple his mouth shut if he called her sweet one more time. 

  


  


Then, at roughly 9PM on a still young Saturday night, the archangel Gabriel was swearing a streak at the shared dinner table in his home. Around the table were seated four celestial beings, a slumbering hellhound and the Antichrist who had dropped by for a visit. He was staying in the guest room of the married couple who had staged an intervention for the sake of the entire neighbourhood. 

"How is he allowed to be an angel with a mouth like that." Adam asked, opening his third can of Red Bull. 

"Eh, Aziraphale has done worse with his mouth." Crowley said with a grin, whiskey swishing in his snifter, delighted at seeing how his husband was pleasantly blushing into his own drink beside him. 

Gabriel was leaning on the table, pushing his whiskey forward with both hands, eager to retort something most likely stupid at Crowley. Beelzebub held up a warning finger, making him halt. "We will _not_ discuss and compare cunnilingual prowess of angels at this table."

"Yeah, why should we, I'd win." Gabriel threw a broad smile at the Prince of Hell, purple eyes shining with mirth. He definitely had one drink too many. 

"I do not doubt that Gabriel, but that's beside the point. Adam is still a _minor_."

"He has internet." Gabriel shrugged. "And you're a demon." 

"He's the son of my boss!" She raised her chin in defiance. 

Gabriel laughed. "_My_ boss is supposed to be omnipresent, so who cares."

Beelzebub crossed her arms, eyes narrowing. "Obviously, _She_ doesn't!"

"Can we focus?" Adam interjected. "We're not here to talk politics. There is a baby. Apparently."

"But are we certain that you are pregnant?" Aziraphale asked, a stern smile on his lips. 

"Heavens, if I knew." Beelzebub was mixing herself a drink of every fruit juice she could find, a rare urge for vitamins within her demanding it.

"What are the typical signs?" The Antichrist asked.

"From what I know," Crowley stated, "sleepiness, morning sickness, increase in appetite, especially for disgusting mixes of food. Mood swings."

"I always have mood swings." The Lord of Flies remarked, testing her concoction of pear, strawberry, orange and cranberry juice. 

"Honey, he is not talking about uppercuts when you're angry with some dimwitted demon."

"More like," Crowley hummed in thought, "being very emotional."

He received a blank stare from his former employer in return. 

"Yeah, scratch that."

Aziraphale refilled his own glass of whiskey. "Not to be terribly nosy, but do you experience morning sickness?"

_No, but morning sweetness_, Gabriel thought yet kept it to himself. No one had to know about that.

She squeezed a lemon into her drink. "My stomach is practically made of steel forged in Hellfire."

"But you do have odd cravings." Gabriel pointed out. "Like salads."

Beelzebub rolled her eyes. "Yes, do tell the world I ate _that_."

Crowley frowned. "This is bad."

Aziraphale clicked his tongue. "It's just salad, dear."

"No, I think Crowley is onto something." Adam insisted, gesturing with his soda can at the Prince. "Bella, was there anything weird in it?"

"Just salad. Fresh greens and tomatoes and Caesar dressing." She answered before chugging her glass. 

The other demon laughed. "You just like that dressing because it reminds you of murder."

Gabriel sighed, leaning back in his chair. "There you have it. Odd appetite."

"Still, it does sound perfectly normal to me. Demons are capable of eating like civilised people, aren't they, darling?" Aziraphale addressed his husband, who shook his head at him. 

"You know I'm not exactly an exemplary demon, angel. She, on the other hand, is the Lord of Flies." 

Beelzebub smirked. "Crowley, don't act like I haven't seen you unhinge your jaw and gobble down an entire roasted goat." There was a particular joy in seeing Aziraphale look so offended. "By the way, Gabriel, do we still have any leftover of the Thai food?"

"Bella, please, focus." The archangel huffed. 

"I _am _focusing." She got up and left for the kitchen, to check the fridge for signs of dangerously spicy curry. "Adam, do you want anything?" 

"No, no, I'm good." He called out, saving his insides from a severe burn. "Thank you."

"Sleepiness, then. We do know that Beelzebub does take naps now." Aziraphale pointed out.

"I take naps all the time, I don't see an issue here." Crowley replied, throwing one arm over the back of his seat. 

"You do because you enjoy them, not because you're tired, dear."

"Like Aziraphale and eating." Adam inquired. "From what I understand, he enjoys the taste and creativity of food, but he's not actually hungry."

"Very true, admittedly." The angel confirmed. 

"But Bella _is_ hungry." The Antichrist stated matter-of-factly. 

"She's a demon, gluttony comes easy to her." Gabriel said, emptying his whiskey. "Question is, where does gluttony end and hunger of a pregnant woman begin?"

Crowley tapped at his jaw. "What did she have for breakfast today?"

"Bacon and eggs." Gabriel answered, forehead already creased in worry. 

"Not just bacon with more bacon?" Crowley prodded. "Did she at least _drink_ the eggs?"

"Fuck." Gabriel whined. "No. They were fried and seasoned. The kitchen was a nightmare to clean."

Adam held his hand up and swallowed his mouthful of energy drink. "She usually drinks raw eggs? What about salmonella?"

"I'm a demon." Beelzebub responded when she came back with a bowl of what looked like a mix of various curries, red and green and yellow, swirling together on rice. "You know this, you can't get sick yourself."

"Are you eating that cold?" The archangel pointed at the already strong-smelling meal. 

"Try to stop me." She turned the fork in her hand to be held like a weapon rather than cutlery. 

Gabriel threw her a disarming smile. "No, no, just asking."

"What else could be an early sign for pregnancy?" Adam asked. "Something that does apply to demons as well."

"Sore breasts?" Crowley asked tentatively, not being entirely sure what was beneath the oversized pullover Beelzebub wore.

Her fork stalled halfway to her mouth. "My breasts are none of your business, asshole."

"I guess we'll have to wait and see."

Aziraphale straightened up, tugging at his waistcoat with determination. "How about we first find out if you're truly pregnant." He snapped his fingers, making a small box of pastel pink colouring appear in the middle of the table. "Be so kind and pee on this."

"No." She dug in, doing her best to ignore the imploring looks upon here. 

Aziraphale smiled at her politely. "Beelzebub, please. This uncertainty is all rather frustrating for everyone involved."

"No shit." She mumbled but kept on eating. 

"Honey, even I have to admit that Aziraphale is right." Gabriel pushed the box towards her. "Can you do this for me?"

"I'm a Prince of Hell, I only answer to Satan himself, and you lot are asking me to make my corporation _urinate_."

"Please?" Gabriel batted his purple eyes at her. 

"Is this a new kink of yours?" She mocked the archangel.

"Fine, be like that." His face fell into a malevolent smile. "The other option is just to watch if you get round or not."

"Or lay an egg." Crowley added.

"Oh, fuck off." She dropped the fork and grabbed the insulting box. With a chilling glower, she left for the bathroom. 

"Is she going to lay an egg?" Adam asked with honest curiosity, picking at his can. 

"I don't want to think about it." Gabriel said, sounding fairly queasy. 

They waited nervously for her to return, each man regarding their drink with too much interest. Dog was barking in his sleep. 

"We're practically just humans with bird wings in this form. Birds do lay eggs." Crowley said with a toothy grin as he saw her come back down the hallway. She threw the empty box at his head and handed the test to an only slightly disconcerted Antichrist.

"Crowley, darling, don't stress her." His husband scolded. 

"Flies lay eggs, too." This time he was smacked on his thigh by Aziraphale. "Hundreds at a time."

"Can we please not talk about it for a moment?" Beelzebub reached for Gabriel's hand under the table, needing an anchor to restrain herself from strangling the other demon.

The archangel scowled at the sneering red-head, letting a few purple sparks of lightning shimmer as a warning. 

The test was gradually developing. It was quiet for a long, long two minutes, except for the scratching of Dog's paws on the floor, the good boy was obliviously dreaming.

"Two stripes." The Antichrist announced. "Congratulations are in order."

"So." Gabriel gulped. "We'll have to make room for a kid."

"Yeah." Beelzebub said as all colour drained from her face, cold curry forgotten. 

The archangel cleared his throat. "You could clean out your plagues room."

That shook her back out of her trance. "The _fuck_ I will, no." She snapped. "Do you have any idea what amount of paperwork it would take to get the entire collection back to my office in Hell?"

Aziraphale, cheeky angel that he was, had a suggestion. "Gabriel could give up his gym."

"No!" Beelzebub slapped her hand on the table. "No, he won't. Let me keep my daily dose of celestial work-out angel porn."

Crowley reached for the whiskey bottle. "I have no clue what you see in him."

Beelzebub looked at the pregnancy test Adam had given back to her. There was no denying it. She was _expecting_. "A daddy, apparently." 

"Please don't call him that." The other demon gagged.

"I'm not ready to be a father." Gabriel said in a hushed tone, suddenly sounding very sober.

"You're older than time itself, _daddy_." Beelzebub retorted, rubbing it in. 

"I'm too old, then!" The archangel's voice reached a note too high.

"We don't even age!" She shot back. 

"What _use_ is time." Gabriel flailed his free hand in a wild gesture, face panicky.

Beelzebub growled. "Why do I even keep you moron around."

"Because you love me?"

"I do."

**Author's Note:**

> The stage is set. Let's _begin_. I'm so full of Schadenfreude I should almost feel ashamed. 
> 
> Feel free to leave comments or drop by my tumblr @ira-dunfort.
> 
> See you in the next one ♥.


End file.
